


Frozen Smile

by DancingKirby



Series: Azula Overcomes [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Dark, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Real Events, Internal Monologue, Parent/Child Incest, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingKirby/pseuds/DancingKirby
Summary: A night in the lives of Ozai and Azula.
Relationships: Azula/Ozai (Avatar), Ozai/OFC
Series: Azula Overcomes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263122
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Frozen Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Death_Rattle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Rattle/gifts).



> NGL, I am a bit nervous about this. LOL It was sort of a writing experiment, combining the backstory and OCs of my Azula ficverse with the characterization and a bit of the writing style of the Kuebiko-verse. Also, I'm pretty pissed at certain IRL famous people, so I decided to play up the hints that I thought I detected in Kuebiko.

The drums were starting to give Ozai a headache.

This was all Iroh’s doing, naturally. He was the one who had convinced their father to start this stupid tradition many years ago. Once a week, after dinner, came the accursed Talent Night. The entire court dressed in their formalwear, and groups of performers from all around the Fire Nation and the colonies were invited to perform in front of them. The idea was to bring regional performing arts into the palace, while allowing commoners a chance to get an up-close look at their Fire Lord. 

This week, the talent was a group of dancers and acrobats from one of the far-flung shithole colonies; not even one of the _good_ ones. Nothing that was any better than what the entertainers under the employ of the palace could do. And they used those _Agni-damned drums_ to keep up the rhythm. Usually, Ozai was able to get through these performances by imbibing large amounts of the finest sake, shochu, and plum wine the palace had to offer; this time, the drums were sufficiently loud to ruin his buzz. And these events took place in the banquet room, not the throne room, so he didn’t even have the curtain of fire to hide behind. Therefore, he had to at least act like he was somewhat paying attention. 

The sooner he could get away with canceling this, the better.

Seated next to him at the high table was Azula, who had assumed the role of de facto Fire Lady on her twelfth birthday a few months ago; Ozai had pulled her from school for that purpose. It was clear that the Fire Lady’s chair had not been designed with such a petite occupant in mind. Azula’s feet, encased in delicate slippers instead of the usual boots, didn’t quite reach the floor. However, unlike Ozai, she excelled at acting a part. Her face was immaculately painted, she’d had her hair woven into an elaborate fengguan to augment her height, and she sat leaning slightly forward, which had the added benefit of making her look absorbed in the show. She watched the proceedings with a little smile on her face that never wavered, and showed no sign that she knew that Ozai was looking at her. Only once did she break her focus, with the slightest turn of her head and a few whispered words to that bubble-headed little friend of hers, who giggled in response. 

Ty Lee. That was her name. She had nice tits for someone so young. While he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of her being so close to Azula, at least she served to distract his daughter from becoming entangled with other men. Maybe he should have her join them one of these nights? The pink-clad girl, not nearly as good at putting on a façade as the Princess, glanced nervously at him as if she could read his thoughts. Then, she went back to looking at the acrobats with an increasingly thoughtful expression (such as it was). 

The other guests that Azula had invited to their dais that night were her other friend Mai (boring, with 4/10 looks at best), and her younger half-sister Ruanyu. To tell the truth, he couldn’t recall the name of Ruanyu’s mother or even what she’d looked like; she was just some kitchen wench that he had cornered in a dark hallway when he’d needed to relieve tension after a particularly contentious encounter with Azulon. And Ruanyu would have languished in obscurity too, had she not attracted gossip due to nearly being Azula’s duplicate in looks and firebending talent. 

Ruanyu was young yet…in some distant corner of his mind, Ozai remembered Azula saying something a few weeks earlier about getting a gift for the girl’s ninth birthday. But in two or three years, who knew what might happen? Azula had been an early bloomer. 

The alcohol was starting to get to him now. Everything was _colors_ : gold, bright red, and blue from Azula’s headdress; darker red and black from court dress; the oranges and yellows of the flames in the torches that lined the hall; and the garish shades that the acrobats wore. He was pondering getting another drink to clear things up when he noticed that everyone in the hall had grown silent. 

What, were they expecting him to say something? Oh, right. No one was allowed to clap until the Fire Lord did. And so he did, just to get it over with.

Once the polite applause (and a cry of “That was awesome!” from Ruanyu) had died down, the head of the troupe made his way up to the high table and prostrated himself. Azula delicately grasped the bag which contained his payment, being careful to not ruin her manicure. The pearls on her headdress tassels clinked together gently as she moved.

“Thank you for showing what talent our glorious nation has to offer,” she said in that distinctive and somewhat incongruous voice of hers, while bidding the man to rise and handing the bag over. Which was the same thing she said every week, more or less. The acrobats respectfully backed out of the room, and the nobles relaxed and started talking amongst themselves.

“Finally, huh?” Zhao murmured from his seat to Ozai’s. Ozai had been spending so much time looking at the ladies that he’d nearly forgotten that the older man had been there. Zhao had been his best (and only) friend once, back in the days when his own family had spurned him. Now, of course, the balance of power had changed, yet the captain still had his uses. He was always the one in the war room who gave the best praise, for one, and also a good drinking buddy.

Naturally, Zhao would expect a reward for his unflinching loyalty someday. Ozai was completely aware of how he ogled Azula when he thought no one was looking. Perhaps, if Zhao made some form of major accomplishment, Ozai would reward him with his daughter’s hand in marriage; maybe even let him impregnate her once. He was far from crazy about the idea; nevertheless, it might be prudent to have a spy in Zhao’s household if he rose very far very quickly.

However, all Ozai actually said in response was, “Yes. Now we can enjoy ourselves properly.” He scanned the next-lowest table for one of his ladies, caught Naoko’s eye, and beckoned her to come to him. Once she was there, he pulled her onto his lap as she blushed and simpered. Azula stared straight ahead, that same smile frozen onto her face.

( _The same one she wore when he made her his sixteen months ago._ )

Ozai knew that the eighteen-year-old Naoko fancied herself in love with him, and possibly even thought that he reciprocated her affections. This was not the case. However, she was a great beauty, and a welcome distraction when he was in the mood for an easy conquest. Her father had all but physically placed his daughter into Ozai’s bed in the hopes of ultimately becoming the Fire Lord’s father-in-law, and the girl herself hadn’t been opposed to the idea in the slightest. She had made a most gratifying squeal when he took her for the first time, and had borne him a daughter within the year. Eri. Although she was still an infant, she had a promising spark in her eye; much as Azula had at that age. It was well-known that Ozai preferred his daughters over his sons, legitimate or otherwise.

Naoko looked at Ozai expectantly, obviously wanting him to say something. He decided to inquire after the health of Eri.

“She’s doing really well!” Naoko answered brightly. “Today was her first birthday, actually. She got frosting all over her face; it was so adorable! I wish you’d have been there to see it!”

Hold on a minute. If today was Eri’s birthday…something good had happened the day she came into the world; he remembered visiting in person and declaring her another daughter born lucky. Now what was it…? Oh yes.

She’d been born the day Zuko was banished. Which meant…

“Can you believe that we’ve been free of the brat’s existence at the palace for a whole year now?” he asked Zhao.

The captain smirked. “I’ll drink to that.”

Good idea.

“A toast!” Ozai cried as he abruptly stood up, not caring that Naoko stumbled a bit trying to get back on her feet. “To an entire year without my so-called son and brother!”

Azula and Zhao raised their goblets, and everyone in the room followed suit; if they had any differing opinions, they kept them to themselves.

Ozai felt exceedingly content as he sat back down and reached for Naoko again, absentmindedly groping her. His life had been shit for so, so long, but now…things were going great. He was the most powerful man in the world, in the prime of his life, blessed with good looks, hung like a komodo rhino, and could fuck any woman (or girl) he pleased, whether they wanted him or not. And, most importantly of all, he’d had a whole glorious year free of Iroh’s frowns of disapproval and Zuko’s mommy issues.

Right now, though, it was just about time to call it a night. Naoko had been rubbing against him not-so-subtly this entire time in hopes that that Ozai would choose to spend the night with her. But he had already made up his mind. Naoko was trying too hard tonight for his liking, and was fast approaching the age where she’d be too old to be interesting anymore. No, tonight he was looking for a little more…excitement.

Ozai rose once again, this time completely dumping Naoko on the floor, and departed for his rooms without another word. The other nobles too this as their signal to disband. He caught Azula’s eye for just a split second; she was smart enough to know what it meant when he left an event without a female companion, and he anticipated seeing her again shortly, once she managed to come up with an excuse for her friends. 

He did hope that she’d be quick about it, since he was already turned on by Naoko’s efforts.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That was _fast_ , Daddy!” Azula crooned after mentally counting off the exact number of seconds in which to stay quiet to allow him to catch his breath. “You must have _really_ needed it.”

All Daddy said in reply was “Hm.” Azula didn’t let it bother her.

“I’m always good to you, aren’t I?” she continued as she got out of the bed, ignoring the soreness and lack of her own release and the fluids dripping out of her. “Better than that moo-sow Naoko?”

She worried that she’d gone too far. But then Daddy let out a huff of amusement.

“Yes. Better than that moo-sow Naoko.”

Thus reassured, Azula bent over to put on the high-heeled shoes that Daddy liked. They were unwieldy to wear; her feet hadn’t quite grown into them yet, so she had to stuff the tips of the toes with paper. What was more, learning to not only walk gracefully but dance flawlessly in heels several inches high had been challenging even for her. However, the reaction she got was worthwhile. She rose and turned back to face the bed, intending to put on a show that would make up for him having to suffer through Talent Night…and saw that he had already fallen asleep.

Although Azula felt disappointed, she thought that perhaps it was for the best. This way, she could head back to her own room and get a bit of extra sleep before she had to wake at 5 AM tomorrow morning. This was the time she woke up almost every day. She had a busy morning routine of practicing her firebending, going through the newspapers and clipping out the articles that said good things about Father to present to him when _he_ woke up, skimming dispatches before the morning council meeting so nothing would catch him off-guard…all before even eating breakfast.

Yes, it could be a grueling schedule. But she was Azula, born to rule; she could handle hard work. She had been endowed with prodigious talent that had just gone to waste at school. What better use for it than to further the Fire Nation’s goals full-time? Certainly, Father couldn’t rely on his bureaucrats to be so perpetually competent, or know him so well. Aware that her position was unassailable, Azula kept smiling. Always.

Things were going _great._


End file.
